CHAPTER IV.
“My father,” said Yhahil, one day, “I have a great desire to visit the Mogul capital.”
“Why, my child?”
“Because the Mahomedans have no more antipathy towards Pariahs than they have towards the castes; and among them our wealth would gain us respect, though our social degradation did not.”
“Well, I see no objection to the change. As you know, I once saved the Emperors life, and his liberality upon that occasion was the source of all my present wealth. For a while he was a wanderer in foreign countries; but he has since resumed his throne, and governs his subjects with equity. He might chance to remember and acknowledge the outcast, though princes have not the credit of awakening unwelcome recognitions. We will go: any change will be for the better, and at Delhi the facilities of traffic are great.—We will go.”
The wife, who was obedient to her husband in all things, made no objection, and the Pariah family were soon settled in the Mogul capital. In a populous city, where beauty is sought after and admiration easily won, the personal attractions of Yhahil could not long remain a secret. The beautiful Pariah was continually spoken of, and at length the reputation of her attractions reached beyond the immediate neighbourhood in which her parent had taken up his abode. She seldom quitted the house that there was not a buzz of admiration; and as it was not the custom of her tribe, as of women of caste, to appear seldom abroad, and then always with the face covered, she was seen every day, and the fame of her beauty spread rapidly over the city.
Passing one morning through the bazaar, which was greatly crowded, she was struck down by the pole of a palenkeen. The person within having been immediately made acquainted with the accident from the cries of the crowd, ordered his bearers to stop, and proceeded to the sufferer’s assistance. Commanding her to be put into his palenkeen, and having ascertained where she lived, she was carried home, he walking by her side.
The father, surprised at witnessing so unusual a cavalcade approaching his door, rushed out with instinctive apprehension of mischief. Upon seeing his daughter, he began to make heavy lamentations, until he heard her assurances that she had only been stunned; and quitting the palankeen she speedily removed his alarm. The stranger was invited to partake of some refreshment, which invitation he did not decline. He was evidently a Mahomedan of rank; and the Pariah was flattered at seeing a man, to whom the multitude bowed in homage, seated at his board, from which all but outcasts had been hitherto excluded. The guest at length retired, after having signified that he should occasionally repeat his visit, which was anxiously pressed by the parents, and seconded by their daughter, not without that silent eloquence of the eyes, which speaks with a sweeter emphasis than the tongue can impart to words.
It was soon ascertained that the gallant Mahomedan was the son of Beiram Chan, prime minister of Humayoon. This adventure naturally led to an intimacy; and young Beiram could not behold the beauty of the Pariah’s daughter without feeling his heart moved. He was young and handsome, full of generous impulses, though too apt to be driven by those impulses beyond the strict line of prudence. He was an object of admiration among the chief ladies of the Emperor’s court, yet he had not fixed his affections, though they had several times wavered between two or three Mahomedan beauties. The lovely Yhahil at once decided him. He had seen nothing among his own countrywomen to approach her transcendant loveliness; his resolution therefore was soon fixed to give them all up, and cleave to the charming stranger. This, however, occurred to his sober reflections as likely to involve him in considerable perplexity. It would never do for the son of a Mogul noble to ally himself with the daughter of an outcast, except by those temporary ties which may be ruptured at will; and, even upon any terms, it would not, he knew, receive the approbation of his family. He did not for a moment imagine that Yhahil would refuse the sort of alliance which he meant to propose to her, feeling conscious that he was not indifferent to her, and knowing, as she must do, the impassable barrier to a conjugal union between them. Their eyes had exchanged those glances which are the precursors of a declaration on the one hand, and of acceptance on the other; still he hesitated to avow himself, being unwilling hastily to rouse the indignation of his parent.
Yhahil’s father and mother had observed the reciprocations of attachment which had been mutually manifested by their daughter and the Mogul minister’s son, and knowing the stern severity of virtue which governed all the actions of their beloved child they looked forward to her ratifying the conquest, which she had evidently made, by becoming the wife of a Mahomedan noble.